A Murder Between the Pages

by Amy Lillard

  Sam shrugged. “Maybe he was concerned that too many people here would recognize his name.”

  “But he was on the dating site as Joe Foster. Why would he lie there too?”

  “He had his name legally changed,” Sam explained. “He really isn’t Jeff Kennedy any longer. Legally, he’s Joe Foster.”

  “Jeff Kennedy,” Camille muttered. “I can’t believe it.” Suddenly she was on her feet. “Going out to the mansion on a ‘personal matter.’ Lying to me about his true identity. Who does he think he is?”

  “Where are you going?” Arlo asked as Camille jerked up her book bag and marched toward the door.

  “I’m going to break things off with this Mr. Kennedy-Foster.”

  “Don’t you think you should think this through?” Helen asked.

  “Can I go with you?” Fern asked.

  “No and no.” Camille was out the door in a flash.

  Should she go after her? Or let her be? Arlo squirmed in place but managed to keep her seat.

  “So that explains the tattoos,” Helen said.

  “He spent, what, four? Five years in jail?” Fern asked.

  “It was more like three and a half initially,” Sam said. “But he had a parole violation and went back inside. The second go-round he ran into some trouble and got another thirty tacked on.”

  “Thirty?” Fern gasped. “What did he do to warrant that?”

  “He killed a man over a piece of corn bread,” Sam said.

  “Please tell me you’re kidding,” Arlo said.

  “I’m not.” Sam stared at his hands for a moment, then unclasped them.

  “Corn bread?” Helen asked. “I’m glad we didn’t go out to supper last week. That could have been disastrous.”

  Sam shook his head in that understanding way he had. “It was a territory thing between gangs. Basically, it was kill or be killed. Joe chose the first route. I didn’t say anything before because, unfortunately, that’s just prison. And he didn’t have any more trouble after that.”

  “I suppose not,” Fern said.

  “That’s terrible.” Helen shook her head.

  “And he was railroaded into jail in the first place.” Fern let out an exasperated sigh. “A woman disappears, probably to start a new life, and his life is ruined because of it.”

  “He did hit her,” Arlo reminded them.

  “Yeah, but she could have just left him outright. She didn’t have to go to all the trouble of sinking her car in the lake,” Fern said.

  “That’s true.” Helen nodded.

  Sam leaned back and stretched one arm along the back of the sofa. Arlo sat next to him, back stiff as they talked around her. “What if she didn’t sink her car in the lake?”

  Arlo turned to Sam. “The object here is to not encourage them.”

  Sam the skunk smiled innocently at her.

  “Then who did?” Helen asked.

  “Top of my short list is Weston Whitney. In fact, he’s the only name on my list,” Fern said.

  “That would explain why the necklace was in the car. And maybe his papers too,” Helen replied.

  “Exactly.” Sam nodded.

  “But what about the baby?” Fern said.

  “I’d forgotten about that,” Arlo breathed.

  Mary Kennedy had been pregnant.

  “I guess that depends on whether or not Mary’s dead,” Helen said.

  “She would have to be,” Fern decided. “Why else would she have left the necklace behind?”

  “Do you think she really took the necklace in order to fund a do-over somewhere?” Helen asked.

  “It’s as good a reason as any,” Sam said.

  Arlo agreed. But Mary hadn’t gotten to start over. She had most likely died that night. At the hands of her suspected lover? Her husband? It was anyone’s guess.

  “I’m still struggling with the fact that you can have a murder without a body.” Arlo said.

  “It depends if there is evidence of an attack or a struggle,” Sam said. “A jury must have felt strongly enough about the evidence against Jeff—Joe—to put him in jail for years.”

  Years that had cost him more years. His life.

  Now he was back. The question was why.

  Chapter 25

  “I don’t see any way around it.” Fern looked from Helen to Camille, who picked at an invisible spot on her pale-blue slacks.

  Arlo who should been moving a stack of books to a new display set them down and made her way over to the reading nook. As much as she said she wasn’t getting involved, it seemed like she was dragged in again and again. But this time it was important.

  “I know you guys mean well,” she started, “but do not bully Camille into doing something she doesn’t want to do.” She expected Helen to bluster up and deny that she was bullying anybody, just as she expected Fern to wave away her concerns as being mother hen. But both ladies dropped their gazes to their laps, sheepish looks on their faces.

  “But they’re right,” Camille said. “I do need to confront him.”

  “You didn’t talk to him last night?” Arlo asked.

  “No,” Camille said softly. “He came by the house and knocked and hollered and called a hundred times, but I didn’t answer. I needed time to think. And quiet,” she added. “And it seems like since I found out, I haven’t had either.”

  “I understand.” Arlo perched on the sofa next to Camille. “You want to talk this through?”

  Finally, Camille looked up from her lap. Her gaze met Arlo’s, and she squeezed Arlo’s hand, the gesture thankful. “I’m not sure there’s much to talk through.”

  “Seems like a lot to me,” Arlo said.

  “I just want to know why,” Camille said.

  There was a lot of room for interpretation in that one. Why he had deceived her? Why he had gone to prison? Why he was back? There were a lot of whys to be uncovered, and Arlo didn’t know which one Camille was referring to. And she wasn’t sure she knew how to ask. But she delved in any way. “Why what?”

  “Why he didn’t tell me who he really is?”

  “Maybe he wanted a chance to start again?” Arlo said.

  “I think she’s right,” Helen said quietly.

  “I agree,” Fern was the calmest that Arlo had seen her all morning. “You can’t start over if you keep telling everybody every detail of your past.”

  “And he did tell you had been in prison, right?” Arlo asked.

  “He did, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I just don’t think I can have a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with me about who he is.”

  “If he was in the witness protection program? Would you expect him to tell you all then?” Fern asked.

  When had Fern jumped on this Joe bandwagon? Yesterday she was ready to hang him up by his toes.

  Camille was on her feet in a second. “I’ve got to go talk to him,” she said. She grabbed her book bag; her purse was of course still hooked around one arm.

  “Go get him, girl,” Helen said.

  “We’ll be right here when you get back,” Fern said. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  Arlo stood as Camille bustled out of the Books and More. She just hoped her friend was making the right choice, and this wasn’t a mistake to define her entire life.

  * * *

  Two hours later Arlo’s phone rang. She snatched it up and checked the screen. “It’s Camille,” she said.

  “Answer it,” Helen admonished. Like Arlo had no intentions of answering the phone. Like they hadn’t been waiting for Camille to call for the last two hours.

  “Camille?” Arlo greeted her after swiping the screen.

  “Hello, love,” Camille said. That lost puppy tone was gone from her voice, and that dreamy, I’m so in love vibe w
as back. “I just wanted to call and let you girls know that everything is fine. Joe explained it all, and I’m so glad I gave him the chance.”

  “So are you coming back to the Books and More?” Arlo asked. What a dumb question. It wasn’t like the bookstore was an everyday sort of hangout. At least, it hadn’t been until recently.

  “Oh no, love.” Camille chuckled. “Joe has some unfinished business, and I told him I would help him.”

  Arlo frowned. “Unfinished business?”

  “Taking care of business! Taking care of business!” Faulkner squawked, drowning out anything Camille said.

  Arlo motioned for Helen to try to keep the bird quiet.

  “What did she say?” Fern demanded.

  “Camille, can you repeat that?”

  “Joe’s daughter,” Camille repeated. “That’s why he came here. He wanted to find his daughter.”

  In a flash Arlo ran through any Kennedys that she knew in Sugar Springs or the surrounding area. She was certain there had to be a couple or so. After all, Kennedy wasn’t that uncommon of a name, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of even one. Or maybe the daughter would be a Foster…?

  “He has a daughter?” Arlo asked.

  “A daughter?” Fern echoed.

  “Joe?” Helen asked.

  Chloe whirled around as if trying to make sure she was hearing correctly.

  “Yes, love,” Camille said gently. “Joe has a daughter he’s never met. And he came here to find her. It seems she works out at Lillyfield, and we’re going out there now to talk to her.”

  “Joe has a daughter?” Arlo said, once more for confirmation.

  “Isn’t it amazing? One of those ancestry sites put them together. He found her birth certificate under her mother’s name, and there you have it.”

  “But he’s been in prison.” Arlo hated saying it outright, but it was the truth after all.

  Camille shook her head. “I didn’t ask him all that. But I figure he did the math on it and knows that the daughter is his.”

  Incredible. Maybe that was why Joe was at Lillyfield when Haley was killed. He said his business was personal; it didn’t get much more personal than a daughter whom a father had never met.

  “Okay,” Arlo said. “I’ll tell everyone that you won’t be back today.” The words made a rock of apprehension form in the pit of her stomach. Camille, sweet Camille, was out with Joe, who beat his wife allegedly. Who went to prison, killed a man over corn bread. And who had been nothing but kind to Camille as far as Arlo could see.

  People change.

  She could only hope.

  She wanted this to be a happy time for Camille and Joe. There were no more secrets between them, at least Arlo didn’t think so, and the two of them were headed to find his long-lost daughter. That sounded enough like a happy ending to her. Why did she feel as if it was all about to go sideways? Maybe because he still might be a suspect in Haley’s murder? Or was her mother hen gene showing again?

  “Thanks, love.” Camille hung up, and Arlo looked at the phone screen trying to gather the wayward pieces of her thoughts. Why did it not seem like everything should be hunky-dory?

  “Joe has a daughter?” Helen asked.

  Arlo pocketed her phone and nodded, still unable to shake that uneasy feeling.

  “Well, kiss a pig,” Fern said. “Who would’ve thought that?”

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Helen asked.

  Arlo shook her head but made her way back to the reading nook where Helen and Fern waited.

  “Gimme some sugar, honey,” Faulkner chirped.

  “I don’t know,” Arlo said. “I mean, I should feel happy for Joe, right? He came here to find his daughter, and it seems like maybe he did.”

  “But?” Helen asked.

  Arlo shook her head. “I don’t know. Something about it just seems off. You know…with Joe.” She didn’t have to say any more. They understood.

  “People change,” Fern said with a shrug, echoing Arlo’s earlier thoughts.

  Lord, let it be true.

  “Maybe it’s all this talk of Lillyfield,” Helen mused.

  “I suppose.” Arlo shrugged. “But if his daughter works at Lillyfield, who is she?”

  “Wait.” Helen’s brow wrinkled into a thoughtful frown. “Who’s the mom?”

  “That’s a good question.” Fern nodded. “He went to prison right after Mary disappeared…”

  “Maybe he met someone when he was out that first time?” Arlo asked.

  “Mary Kennedy was pregnant when she disappeared,” Fern said.

  “But Mary was reportedly killed fifty years ago,” Arlo reminded her. “Joe went to prison for it. So she couldn’t have had a baby.”

  Fern shook her head. “No, Weston killed Mary to keep her from telling everybody that she was carrying his baby and that they were having an affair.”

  “This is beginning to make my head hurt,” Helen said.

  Chloe tossed her dishrag over one shoulder and made her way to the reading nook. “Let’s break this down,” she said. “Joe could have gotten married during his time out, but we don’t know that for certain.”

  “Actually he wouldn’t have had to have gotten married to have a baby,” Arlo said.

  “True enough,” Fern agreed.

  “But if he didn’t get married or even start a new relationship, then it could be that daughter he’s looking for belongs to Mary Kennedy.”

  “Which would mean that Mary Kennedy wasn’t killed,” Helen said.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Fern said.

  “Which brings us back to Weston Whitney didn’t kill her,” Arlo started. “And Mary Kennedy faked her own death.”

  They all sat in silence for a moment.

  “Perhaps Mary left because she knew that she wouldn’t get any support from Weston, not even if the child was his and not Joe’s. And if it was not Joe’s, then he was certainly not going to welcome her back.” Chloe looked around to see how this theory was taken.

  “She could’ve simply let Joe believe it was his,” Helen said. “I’ve known a lot of women in such situations.”

  “A lot?” Arlo asked. Seemed like Sugar Springs was the next Peyton Place.

  “It’s a relative term,” Helen said with a wave of her hand. “All I’m saying is it’s not totally out of the question.”

  “Maybe,” Chloe said. “But the money belongs to Judith. If Weston left her, he would be penniless. If the baby was indeed Weston’s, then Mary would be left with nothing.”

  Not unless she could convince Joe that the child was his.

  “Holy cow!” Fern said. “It all makes sense now.”

  Helen nodded. “Mary knew that she would get no support from Weston if he left Judith. He would be penniless and unable to support her and the child.”

  “And Judith wouldn’t exactly welcome her husband’s bastard into Lillyfield,” Fern continued. “So Mary couldn’t go home, back to a violent husband, when she was pregnant with another man’s child.”

  “It would have been fairly easy to convince Joe, or Jeff, that the baby was his. There were no DNA tests back in the seventies. Blood maybe, but that was too much of a gamble. She must’ve known that Jeff would know that the child wasn’t his, and he would be furious when and if he found out.”

  “She couldn’t risk that,” Helen mused. “It was too dicey. Instead, she faked her own death and left town. Jeff was blamed and sent to prison, and that was that.”

  “That would mean that whoever this child is would be about forty-eight or forty-nine,” Arlo pointed out. Most of the women they had encountered at Lillyfield had been young, all the maids. The older crowd consisted of Roberts and Dutch and—

  “Pam,” Arlo breathed. “It has to be Pam.”

  “But if Pam was tha
t child, then she might not be Joe’s daughter,” Helen said.

  If that came to light…

  “Camille could be in danger,” Arlo finished. Who knew how Joe would react to finding out that the child he had been looking for belonged to someone else?

  “We have to get out there. Now,” Helen said.

  Fern was on her feet in an instant. “I’ll drive.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Chloe asked as Arlo gathered her purse.

  “Not at all, but I can’t let them go by themselves. What if Joe and Camille are actually out there?”

  “You don’t think his daughter is dangerous?”

  Arlo shook her head. “I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s really Pam. But I know that Haley was killed out there.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Chloe said, her voice taking on a hopeful tone.

  “It doesn’t? You know this for a fact?” Arlo asked.

  Chloe sighed. “No. But—”

  Arlo nodded. “I know, I know. Things like this just don’t happen in Sugar Springs. But they have now, and we have to deal with it.”

  “I’m not going to let you go by yourself,” Chloe said, reaching behind her and untying her apron.

  “Who’s gonna watch the shop?” Fern stopped gathering her things and looked from Arlo to Chloe.

  “Phil,” Chloe said. Their neighbor next door picked that moment to walk into the Books and More for another cup of coffee.

  “What?” Phil asked.

  “We need you to stay here at the Books and More and watch the store,” Arlo said.

  “What about my store?”

  “What do you get? Like two customers a day?” Fern asked.

  “Never mind,” Arlo said. “We’re closing the store. If anybody comes by, just tell them that we’ll be back as soon as we possibly can.” She hated closing up shop, but what choice did she have?

  “Sam,” Chloe said with a snap of her fingers.

  “We’ll call him on the way.”

  They all filed into Fern’s Lincoln and headed for the mansion.

  “Call Sam,” Chloe said. “Have him go downstairs and make sure that the Books and More is okay.”